Like Father, Like Daughter
by VampedVixen
Summary: Drake is a bit apprehensive when Gosalyn wants to don her Quiverwing Quack identity again.


"Are you sure about this, Gos?" His voice echoed through the Audubon Bay Bridge hideout. Drake hadn't been up here ever since the motorcycle crash that had left his knee broken and his use of a cane mandatory. Dust clung to the wall where newspaper articles featuring his masked crime fighter days told of his old glory days. Those darned journalists could never seem to spell his alter-ego's name right.

At first his question met no reply. They'd had this conversation before. There would be no talking her out of this though. Once she had an idea in her head, that was it. It had been that way since the two of them had met. On a few occasions, Drake recalled Launchpad and Honker getting into debates of which of the two were more stubborn: Darkwing or his daughter.

Gosalyn finished tying the green leather mask around her eyes, completing her costume and finally turned to face him. Dressed in a green archer's tunic, flowing dark red cape and a mask that concealed half her face, it was as if she had just stepped out of a comic book. Only this was far too real and far too dangerous for Drake's taste.

"You promised me two things when I turned eighteen," Gosalyn held up two of her feathered fingers, "I could get my driver's license and I could decide for myself whether or not I wanted to pursue a career as Quiverwing Quack."

"I know, Gos, I know." Drake replied, leaning more heavily on the cane. When the idea of Quiverwing Quack had first dawned on Gosalyn, she'd been only nine-years-old, far too young to risk taking on such a hobby. A hobby where you could never relax because you were never quite sure if you were safe from attack, where you always had to watch your back for fear that someone might stick a bullet in it, where you couldn't lead a normal life because you always had to protect your secret identity. "You just don't know what it's really like out there, honey. The things I've seen, the ducks who have tried to murder me.. I never wanted that for you."

During his speech, Gosalyn wandered over towards the wall of history and memories, looking over the newspaper articles that heralded her father's name. "But I do know what it's like out there, Dad. I know better than most ducks would." She cocked her head at him, "How many missions did I tag along with you on?"

"I never wanted you to tag along." As he leaned against the broken down Ratcatcher, Drake tapped the metal floor with the tip of his cane with indignation. "If I recall, most of those times I grounded you for sneaking out and putting yourself in danger."

She dismissed his reprimanding voice and continued, "And how many times did Negaduck try to get at you through me? And how many times did I stand my own against your foes? I've never been a damsel in distress kinda duck, Dad, this you should know by now."

Drake knew she was right but hated to admit it. She'd always been a tough one, the child who gets scraped up in a hockey game and goes on playing like nothing happened. Still, she was his child, the one thing that had kept him from slipping off into the dark land of vigilantism where nothing mattered except hunting the enemy down and taking vengeance for their crime. Darkwing Duck, the loner who needed no one and nothing, may have done fine without her but Drake Mallard, mild-mannered duck who wanted to live a normal life, would never have existed again without her love. "I'll worry about you, Gosalyn. I'll worry about you every night that you're out there fighting. Do you really want to do that to me?"

"Don't try to play the guilt card on me, Dad." Gosalyn replied, growing serious as the truth kept hidden for too many years spilled out. "Do you have any idea how many times I worried about you getting into trouble? One of my biggest fears ever since I came to live with you was that one day you wouldn't be there anymore, that one night I would wake up to the sound of the police knocking on the door to tell me that you had died." Her voice quieted, "I think that's why I always came with you on your assignments. I thought I could keep you safe."

"Oh, Gos," Drake frowned as he took the revelation in. He'd thought about her plenty of times while he was out on a case and more times than he would have liked to remember, it was the thought of her and the need to be there for her that had given him the strength to get out of some pretty terrible situations. He just never figured that while he was out there doing all that, she was at home worrying about him. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to put you through that."

She shrugged, "It comes with the territory of being the family of those who put themselves in the line of danger to protect others." Picking up a quiver full of arrows, she slung it over her shoulder. "But your work is done, Dad. It's my turn to carry on the family business." Her gaze turned dark as she hoisted her new weapon, a crossbow given to her by Launchpad. "It's my turn to protect St. Canard."

Drake had to admit she looked every bit like a crime fighter, almost like she could take on the world and with an attitude to match. He could feel himself tearing up as he realized that she was ready to fly the nest and lead this new life. "Knock 'em dead, Gos."

Smiling at his acceptance, she planted a small peck on his cheek and rushed towards the exit. It felt like she was leaving him forever, like he would never see her again but then she turned and gave him a small wave. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll be fine."

He waved back, as an image of a nine-year-old Gosalyn crossed his mind. She with the exuberant energy and the penchant for destroying the living room by playing hockey with his valuables. She who always jumped on his bed the first thing in the morning. She who was going to save the city, just like he had vowed to do many decades earlier. Gosalyn was ready for this.. but he'd still be waiting up all night because that's just what father's did, they worried about their children.

-End-


End file.
